Nicknames
by Explorer08
Summary: When Jason comes up with the idea that the name "Dick" just doesn't fit his big brother anymore, he and the boys leap into a name game like no other! What will Dick have to say about all this when it comes down to it? One-Shot Rated T


**Big thanks to my wonderful BETA Cocofoshosho! And a huge, amazing, wonderful thanks to Ki-Chan Ricker** **for giving me this idea! Ki-Chan has been a great inspiration for this story, and thus it is dedicated to both Ki-Chan and Coco for their help!**

 **All Batman characters, locations, and canon events are owned by DC.**

***B***

Dick brushed a hand through his already mussed black hair. It had been another busy night in Gotham, so naturally they had all received their fair share of bumps and bruises. Bruce was stitching a cut on Tim's arm, his own ribs freshly wrapped by Alfred only minutes before. Damian was rubbing bruise cream on his jaw, while Alfred worked on patching a bullet wound to Jason's side. Dick's head throbbed slightly from the minor concussion he'd received whilst battling some Two Face's newest goons.

"You know what I was just thinking," Jason suddenly broke the silence that had overtaken the group.

Bruce raised an eyebrow while keeping his eyes on Tim, while Alfred hummed noncommittally and waited for Jason to continue.

"We need a new nickname for Dick."

Dick's brow furrowed as he glanced at the younger man. "What's wrong with my name?"

"I don't know. I mean, you're a grown man. Dick is what you call a kid. Richard is just too formal to call you that every day though."

By now, Tim's face had grown thoughtful and Damian was grinning subtly. Bruce smirked a bit as he listened to his sons commence their newest discussion.

"And what might you suggest, Master Jason?" Alfred asked. Dick smirked at the butler's attempt to hide his grin.

"Rico!"

Bruce rolled his eyes, while Tim chuckled. Dick shook his head and crossed his arms. "Oh hell no," he muttered.

"Aw, come on!" Jason pleaded. "That one was pretty good!"

"Nope, try harder," Dick told him. "But tomorrow. I'm beat." With that, Dick headed upstairs, soon followed by the rest of his family.

***B***

By noon the next day, Dick knew that Jason had managed to rope Tim and Damian into his little "nickname crusade."

"Hey Rich, do you have those reports from two nights ago?" Tim asked.

Dick rolled his eyes. "Not my name." Tim shrugged and went searching for the forms himself.

***B***

At dinner, Damian made his attempt. "Hitch, would you pass the butter?"

After handing Tim a napkin to mop up the water that had spewed out of his nose and also picking Jason up from his fit of laughter on the floor, Dick crossed his arms, exasperation flitting across his face..

"Not my name, Little D."

"Where did that come from?" Jason continued to laugh.

"It was actually quite popular in the 12th and 13th centuries!" Damian defended himself.

Bruce and Alfred watched in mild amusement as the boys continued their endeavor.

***B***

On the third day, Jason tried again at breakfast. "Rick, pass the syrup please."

Tim sniggered, while Damian smirked. Alfred simply watched bemusedly. Bruce, however, noticed a faint line form between Dick's eyebrows.

"That's not my name," he muttered.

"Aw, come on Richie," Jason prodded.

Abruptly, Dick stood. "Enough. Stop with the shit!"

Jason, Tim, and Damian were shocked into silence as he stalked irritably out of the dining room.

"I- we- uh... my bad." Jason's voice became quiet. Tim stood, moving to follow his brother. Bruce reached up, placing a hand on the young man's shoulder.

"Leave him for now," Bruce advised. "Eat your breakfast." They resumed their meal in silence.

***B***

The afternoon sun was warming the living room as Bruce turned the hands of the grandfather clock, revealing the secret staircase, and headed down to the cave. The soft rattle of the trapeze chains drew him towards the gym. As he reached the doorway, Bruce watched Dick finish what was probably his millionth runthrough on the trapeze. The young man flipped, releasing the fly bar from his firm grasp. When his feet hit the mats, though, he stumbled; Dick quickly executed a tuck and roll to regain his balance.

However, his state of distraction caused him to falter yet again, and his back collided with the wall. The impact forced the air from his lungs, and he growled in frustration. Without warning, the young man turned and punched the concrete, leaving a sizable crater in the wall.

Stepping from the shadows, Bruce moved to sit on the bench near the door. "Dick, can I speak with you?"

Dick looked up and nodded. "I'm sorry," he murmured as he joined his mentor on the bench. Sweat ran down his back and dripped from his jawline. Bruce noticed the steady trembling of the young man's arms and sighed.

"Dick, you know they didn't mean anything by that. They were only trying to aggravate you, not upset you."

"I know," Dick mumbled.

"Then can you tell me why you're angry?" The younger man shrugged, and Bruce frowned. "Dick, that's not an answer."

They sat there, Bruce looking at Dick's downcast face. The young man's eyes -usually a sparkling cerulean blue- were dull and hurt.

"Why can't they be happy with me the way I am?" Dick finally said, meeting Bruce's deep blue gaze. His voice was so quiet that it sounded like an escaping breath, and Bruce almost missed his words.

"Richard John Grayson, they are your brothers. They are perfectly happy with who you are, and they love you. So do I for that matter." Bruce told him firmly. Dick couldn't hide the surprise that came over him at Bruce's admission. The man was usually closed up like a turtle when it came to divulging any kind of emotion -yet here he sat, a hand on Dick's shoulder, admitting that they all loved the young man.

"Dick, you are an extremely talented young man. Jason, Tim, and Damian are all proud to call you a brother, and I am especially proud to call you my son. No matter what you like to be called, that will never change."

Dick could hardly believe that this was Bruce speaking so openly, yet the man's firm grip on Dick's shoulder and the stern look in his deep blue eyes brooked no argument.

Dick leaned over suddenly, settling his head against Bruce's shoulder and wrapping his arms around the man's torso. "Thanks, Dad."

Bruce gave him a small smile, hugging him back. "You're welcome."

A soft knock on the doorframe made Dick look up. Jason, Tim, and Damian all stood there. Dick motioned for them to come in. Immediately, Damian moved to sit on Bruce's lap, hugging Dick's arm tightly for a moment in remorse, while Tim sat next to Dick and looked at his brother apologetically. Jason, however, seemed to be glued in place in the doorway.

"Jason," Dick said gently, "it's okay." Jason stayed put, but bit the inside of his cheek as Dick reached out his hand and motioned for him to join the group on the bed. "Jaybird," Dick tried again.

At the sound of his nickname, Jason walked forward to fall into Dick's open arms. "I'm sorry," he whispered as guilt wracked his brain.

"It's okay, I know you didn't mean anything by it," Dick reassured him. "Make you a deal though."

Jason nodded, "Anything."

"You agree to stop trying to come up with more nicknames, and I'll show you how to do a Bird's Nest on the trapeze," Dick smiled. Jason grinned broadly and agreed.

***B***

It had been just over a week since the nickname game had ended. Damian stood, arms crossed comfortably, while Tim sat crosslegged on the floor. Bruce and Alfred stood by the door. All four had their eyes trained on the two oldest ex-Robins. Dick hung upside down on the bar, swinging back and forth to where Jason was preparing to leap from his perch on the board. Dick nodded to the young man and Jason released the breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding.

"Ready," Dick called, "hup!" Jason leapt from the board, swinging out with a firm grip on the bar. He swung towards Dick once, then away. As they swung towards each other a second time, Jason flipped up, his feet touching his hands for a moment. In what seemed like the longest moment of his life, he released the bar and reached for Dick's hands.

*CLAP*

Their hands met and clasped tightly. Jason smiled broadly as Tim cheered and the others clapped.

"Yeah!" Jason exclaimed as he dropped to the net below. Dick swung once more, grabbing the other bar in steady rhythm and landing safely on the board a moment later.

"You did it Jaybird! That was perfect!"

Rolling out of the net, Jason looked up at his brother and beamed.

"Thanks, Dick."

***B***

 **PS: this is the trick on youtube...** watch?v=21lu5asdb-g


End file.
